


The Dancer

by fandramatics



Series: Pride Prompts [13]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25757698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandramatics/pseuds/fandramatics
Summary: June 15th. Dance67. "Please, ruin me"
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Pride Prompts [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769941
Kudos: 17





	The Dancer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cordeliagoode](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliagoode/gifts).



The scent of strong perfume hit him full on the face when Aziraphale entered the club. In the low light and among the dark colors of the costumer’s clothes, the principality found his clear colors and tartan stood out.

He snapped his fingers and the heads that had been turned by his entrance glanced away, confused as to what had drawn their attention, for they could have sworn they heard a wandering soul come in.

The angel navigated through the sea of drunk, his clear irises searching for the face of his target among the faces that started to seem the same uninterested ones.

To guide a wandering soul back into the path of righteousness should be an easy task for an angel. His target wasn’t a bad man, yet times had been hard on him and his faith had been shaken. It was time to give the man a nudge back to where he belonged: in the good graces of Her. All he had to do was to find the said man.

Sensual music filled the air, lights made the figures on the stages shine as they danced slowly, entrancing the onlookers. Their jaws hanging low at such a gorgeous sight, enough of them more than willing to open their wallets and place generous amounts of money at a dancer’s underwear.

A hair stood in the back of the principality’s neck and he shifted in his feet. A familiar sensation washing over him, like a smell he couldn’t place or a voice he didn’t know but was aware he had heard before.

An alarm went off in the back of his mind, yet the ethereal being couldn’t understand the reason why.

His clear orbs searched the club. And they found what they were looking for, they found the source of his predicament.

On a stage nearby, a dancer had appeared. And the sight of them made Aziraphale’s jaw hang low.

_ Oh good, Lord! _

The leather straps of the barely-existing black clothes hugged that delectable sight of a body. Fiery hair down to his shoulders, touching the fair skin. Combined with the swaying of his hips as they followed the sensual melody, he captivated his audience without further efforts.

Aziraphale caught himself as captivated as the guests around. His gaze followed the almost unnatural movements from the dancer, the vision made the principality’s lips dry and he had to wet them on more than one occasion.

As if they had a mind of their own, his feet had him approach one of the tables and sit down. When a waitress showing too much cleavage approached he ordered something he wasn’t certain he wanted and had her leave him be.

Anthony J. Crowley moved around and against the pole in a way only a creature who had once been a snake could. Each second of his presentation as tempting as a demon could be.

The angel swallowed hard, a couple of fingers tugging at the suddenly too tight tartan bowtie he wore.

And then yellow eyes spied over the dark lenses and found the principality’s blue ones.

Aziraphale thought he would die on the spot. He was under the impression hellfire might consume him that same second.

The dancer released the pole. With his eyes fixated on his target, the demon swayed his way in slow, calculated movements towards the angel.

Yellow irises watched blue ones as they grew closer.

Crowley paused before Aziraphale’s table, he ignored everything on it and approached the angel. He straddled a blinking principality, who swallowed hard and loudly when the demon hips started their work again.

The demon tilted his head, leaned closer to the angel. “Anything I can do for you tonight, angel?” His tongue teased the principality’s earlobe, exploring its full extent.

Aziraphale’s body had heat spread through it. From low at his crotch to the tip of his ears he sensed the warmth, the blood pumping through him. How his shaft starting filling. He closed his hand to fists, pressed them against his seat to keep them away from the undulating hips of that old snake. “Crowley, what are you doing here?”

The dancer pulled away, met his companion’s eyes. “Working.” His hands touched the angel’s shoulder, near the curve of his neck. The redhead moved his hips in a tantalizing motion, reducing the distance between their bodies.

The principality clenched his jaw, avoided observing the way Crowley swayed.

There was cold then, the demon stood with his back to his companion, but he didn’t stop swaying to the melody in the air. He blew a kiss to a couple of onlookers, twerked closer to a third one. And smiled as he heard Aziraphale release a low protest he didn’t even realize it had risen up his throat.

That old snake picked a new victim, danced without touching the man, his eyes devouring the dancer as his hips worked their magic on him. A generous amount of cash was given to Crowley.

“Isn’t this enough?” the complaint came out louder than expected, and the demon was on the principality in a blink. 

The angel gasped as he noticed their noses inches apart. “Quiet, angel. I’m working here.”

The demon spun around, kept his back to him. Aziraphale found he could hardly tear his eyes from the creature before him, and it did little help that the old snake inched closer yet with every second.

“Why are you here?” prompted the fallen.

“I’m also working,” replied the angel, shifting on his seat, swallowing hard. “I’m here for a blessing.”

“A blessing in a strip club?” questioned the demon freeing himself from a few straps of his piece.

“An interesting case…” he trailed off, fighting back the urge to touch the leather.

“The accountant?” questioned the demon.

Aziraphale blinked, shot a glance at Crowley’s face. “You’re working on him?”

“He had picked your table, went to the backroom with Candy a couple of minutes ago. If you meant to save him from her your chance, angel.”

The principality opened his mouth to complain, but words died inside when the demon rubbed himself against him. Much to the angel’s terror, precisely against his hardening length.

“Oh, good--”

“Don’t you dare!” hissed Crowley, pressing further against the other’s prick. 

His movements had Aziraphale whining, one of his hands went for the fallen one’s hips, bringing him closer and making him fall on his lap.

The demon’s nails dug on his hand as he shoved it away. “No touching!”

The infuriating creature was up and facing him in a second. Over the lenses, the angel could see wide pupils. There was also no denying the dry lips. “You started this!” he complained.

Crowley’s glanced around fast, took the principality’s hand. “Come with me. Now.”

Through dancers and hungry clients, the demon guided his companion to a secluded area and into one of the private rooms. He had Aziraphale sit down and, once again, started dancing to him.

“We’re being watched,” informed the demon, moving near Aziraphale until he rubbed against the angel’s cock again.

The principality had half a mind not to shove him on the small excuse of a table and have his way with him.

“Do you like it, darling?” the words came out of the demon’s mouth and he sounded every bit like the slut he should, still the principality didn’t miss the tremor behind it - from the actual Crowley - whose body burned in need for the creature beneath him.

Crowley fell face first on the sofa nearby, a startled scream escaping him. Aziraphale grabbed at his leather pants and forced them out of the way, exposing the demon to his starving eyes.

“Aziraphale,” panted the fallen one, licking his dry lips nervously. The sound of the belt being unbuckled made his whole body shake and he couldn’t stop the “Yes!” that left him.

For what felt like an eternity, he waited, listening. Then he felt it: fingers coated in lube touching him between his buttocks, testing at his entrance, teasing, penetrating.

Aziraphale pulled at the fiery hair, the demon cried out. “Ah! Yes! Please, Aziraphale! Please!” The blue irises study the shifting form, how Crowley’s hips press against his in a desperate motion. “Please, angel. Please, ruin me. Please,  _ pleasepleaseplease _ .”

The blue irises of the angel watched as he stroke his pink cock, digits working in and out of the creature before him.

The demon whine at the lack of response, hissed before he got louder. “Aziraphale, for somebody’s sake, will you please get your cock inside me?!”

A pause, a moment of stillness, silence.

Anthony J. Crowley feared the damage his words might have done.

Heat grew behind him as Aziraphale leaned over, the angel’s tongue ran over his earlobe before he nibbled at the flesh there. “You’re in no position to give me orders, dear.” Crowley felt him there, pressing against his butthole. He whined, squirmed. “Will you behave?”

“Yes! Yes, angel! Anything! Anything you want! Please!”

The principality sank forward and Crowley whimpered out loud, taking in every inch before his desperate pleas returned and all he claimed to need was Aziraphale. His breathless words filled the air and stole the angel’s focus, and, for a beating second, the principality found his mind blank, unable to process anything but the feeling of the redhead around his prick.

The demon moaned loudly when the strokes began. Each new one making him breathless. Soon he was moving against the angel, meeting his thrusts in desperate movements. He turned his head, bit down the arm of the sofa before words he couldn’t dare to say escaped him.

The principality reached around him, grabbed at Crowley’s cock, stroking it in sync with his thrusts, earning moans and curses the sofa suffocated.

“Devious creature dancing against me like that!” hissed Aziraphale. “Beautiful, beautiful snake, exposing yourself like that.” He trailed kisses up the fallen one’s back.

“Come inside me, angel,” pleaded the demon, “Please, come inside me.”

A soft chuckled escaped the principality. “Of course, darling. I need to show them who you belong to.”

Crowley closed his eyes tight, savoring every second of pleasure his husband caused to wash through his body. He came before he felt Aziraphale spurting inside of him, his soft noises making the demon smile.

The old snake’s body trembled as the waves of pleasure finished washing through him, goosebumps rose under the touch of the principality’s digits, a little something to calm the wild heart on the demon’s chest. Though, there would be no controlling him now, not when he had his eyes heavy-lidded watching Aziraphale with so much love.

Crowley shifted closer to the angel, closed his eyes, and remained there. At peace.


End file.
